Mythos
by Omnia Vanitus
Summary: Loki Laufeyson has been banished from Asgard. It's not that bad really and he's actually starting to enjoy himself. Or at least he would be if only Tony Stark would leave him alone. WARNINGS: Slash.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

Mortals. _Pftt._ Just how stupid and idiotic could they possibly be?

Quite a bit apparently, but what more could you expect from creatures who only use about 10% of their brains at any given time.

What was that quaint little Midgardian saying? Ah, yes: "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups." _Especially if said group included a loudmouthed god of thunder and a temperamental green beast._

If he had been in his right mind or even in control of it all those months ago, then he never would have bothered with Earth and he suspected that the only reason Thor did was because they were just as dimwitted as he was. _And putting it to that woman of his was an added bonus no doubt._

For his crimes against Midgard, Loki had been stripped of his titles and banished from Asgard. He'd been lucky to have escaped execution, or at the very least a lifelong imprisonment, but thanks to his mother's persuasiveness, Frigga had not only convinced the Allfather to listen to Loki's side, but for Loki himself to put aside his anger and speak openly and honestly, something which neither men wanted to do. But it wasn't too surprising really, Frigga had been married to and mother of two of the most stubborn men in the whole of the nine realms and she was well accustomed to dealing with them and getting her way.

The unending void, the all consuming madness of Yggdrasil, and the horrors dealt by the Mad Titan were enough to garner the court's sympathy and for Odin himself to gather up the last tendrils of fatherly love and spare him the dungeons. But in exchange, Loki would never step foot in Asgard again nor be claimed an Odinson. It was to be expected.

For the first several months Loki had drifted, floating from realm to realm. With Asgard closed to him and Jotunheim a volatile clusterfuck it wasn't long before he eventually found himself back on Midgard. Right where it all went wrong.

Belonging neither here nor there, Earth was as good a place as any for him to find himself. It wasn't that bad actually, now that he was free of his overbearing 'parents'. It was just a shame he couldn't keep the thunderer at bay as well.

SHIELD hadn't been too happy when they found out he had returned of course, but then again that might have had something to do with how he had revealed himself.

Instead of waiting for the day when SHIELD would inevitably find him, Loki had materialized in front of the scowling, one-eyed director willingly. And despite his rather sudden appearance Nick Fury, for his part, had taken it in stride. Leaning back in his plush office chair, the man didn't so much as splutter out his morning coffee.

"Well, well, well," Fury had called. "I was wondering when you'd finally decide to drag your sorry ass in here."

"Director," Loki answered with a slight nod. Dressed in the sleek black suit he had worn back in Stuttgart, Loki claimed the sole seat in front of Fury's desk.

The two men sat in silence for several minutes, passively studying the other as Fury sipped at his black coffee and Loki's curious green eyes strayed to the few sparse artifacts decorating the room. Just as Loki reached out a long, bony finger to poke and prod at an odd curio laying out on the desk before him, Fury spoke.

"Thor told us all about your banishment, but I'd like to hear it from your own mouth."

"You would trust my words, Director?"

"Do I look that stupid to you?"

"Then why bother?"

"We have to start somewhere," Fury shrugged, "and believe it or not, I've actually been warming to the idea of having you around. I rather like knowing where you are as opposed to leaving you to gallivant about universe doing god knows what. And I'm sure Barton would approve of having you within shooting distance as well."

"No doubt," Loki agreed. "And here I thought you'd be scrambling for your precious Avengers to come and lock me in chains."

"The thought had crossed my mind, but Thor has made it quite clear that you fall under Asgard's law and your punishment was dealt at their discretion, regardless of how pitifully lacking the rest of us think it was."

"Was my banishment truly so unexpected? Such arrangements have been made throughout your Midgardian history," Loki pointed out. "Napoleon ruled the world before being banished to a small island."

"It's funny you should mention Napoleon. We have a little syndrome named after him, but I'm sure you've heard of that too."

"Yes, I'm familiar with the term," Loki admitted, ignoring the obvious bait, and asked curiously, "what is it you hope to gain?"

"Information," Fury said simply.

"And in return for this bounty of knowledge?"

"SHIELD would be more than happy to play host during your stay here on Earth."

Loki gave him a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, Director, but I've no intention of being your prisoner again. I've played the part far too often as of late."

"Then what?"

He hesitated, pausing long enough to take a breath. "I wish to be left alone, to find my own way."

"To make a home amongst us ants?"

"For a time," Loki said with a shrug.

He was willing to admit that Fury was by no means a stupid man and SHIELD had levied him with more than just information in returning for staying on their precious little planet. But still not as much as he had been anticipating.

In addition to being SHEILD's new consultant on all things magical and alien, at least whenever Thor's limited knowledge on such things were of no benefit, he had also been forced to give a public apology. One, he might add, that was as fake as any other he had ever been forced to give and that was also not so public considering how much effort SHEILD had taken into keeping his identity secret. Loki had been half tempted to tell them that he could change his appearance just as easily as he could breath, but then again they do have to find some things out for themselves, right? And it's not like they won't have the opportunity, being monitored was another necessary condition of SHIELD's.

Loki was only grateful they chose a noninvasive method, something for which he should probably thank Tony Stark for seeing as he was one that designed and fastened the simple black braided cord now attached to his wrist. Loki was almost certain that that little cord on his wrist was supposed to do more than just monitor his whereabouts. A hunch that was confirmed when he gathered up a small ball of his seiðr into one hand not moments after the cord had been latched on. The none too subtle frowns on the Avenger's faces were proof enough, but he wasn't concerned though. Let them monitor it for all he cared, his magic was a part of him and the only one who had the power to take it from him was Odin himself.

Oh, but these creatures were truly ignorant. He had brought an alien invasion to their doorstep and they were still more concerned with his whereabouts than they were with the other nasties that inhabit the universe. Oh they had questioned him about the Chitauri and Thanos, but never once did they ask about the other worlds known and unknown to Asgard.

And if they truly thought the Asgardians were the only gods to have visited their world, then they were sadly mistaken.

It was by no accident that Odin banished Thor to Midgard, Earth has always been a dumping ground of sorts. It was after all, to use another quaint colloquialism, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Or according to Oscar Wilde, "go to hell, make a left." _Perhaps he should expect to see his daughter around here somewhere._

Whatever, at least he was left alone now. That was the deal anyway, but as often as the Avengers wandered into his tavern he was beginning to wonder.

Mythos.

A fitting name for his little tavern. It wasn't much and certainly not what SHEILD or the Avengers had been expecting from him, but it served his purpose and kept him in contact with the peregrine who frequented Midgard.

And a ready supply of alcohol never hurt anyone either.


	2. Golden Appletini

Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story.

* * *

Tony Stark stood at the entrance to the alleyway, eyeing a fat grey rat as it scurried along to the overflowing dumpsters down the way.

He knew he was in the right place, Clint and him had scoped the place out often enough and the sign hanging over the unassuming metal door, and looking far too weather-beaten for a business that had just opened up the week before, confirmed it. _The Mythos Tavern._

The neighborhood itself was shoddy and rundown and what Clint had referred to as 'upper-class ghetto'. It certainly wasn't anywhere anyone would expect to find the multibillionaire nor was it someplace he wanted to be either, but he didn't have a choice. The captain's incessant nagging was just too damn annoying.

Who the fuck was he to question his ability anyway? The Capsicle couldn't even program his goddamn VCR. Who the hell even _owned_ a VCR anymore?

It's not like it was rocket science after all. Hell, if it were then it would have been easy, but there was only so much he could do with SHIELD's _very_ limited data anyway. Loki had only used his magic once or twice. Everything else had come through the Chitauri spear and no one really knew what the fallen god was capable of except for maybe Thor, and the blonde Asgardian had no interest whatsoever in trying to help them cut off Loki's magic.

Thor wasn't concerned, and to be honest Tony wasn't either as long as Loki played nice. But even if he didn't, Tony was certain that the Hulk would love to make another appearance and tear up some more flooring with the god's face again and that alone should be enough of a deterrent to any future world domination plots the mischief maker might have.

Tony gave his sleek Acura NSX a forlorn look before stepping into the alley, crossing his fingers that his precious car would still be waiting for him and intact when he returned.

The nondescript metal door from the alley gave way to a small, dimly lit foyer lined with dark wood paneling and worn flooring that led to yet another door. Tony wasn't sure what he'd been expecting...a bottomless pit, a dungeon, a dumping ground filled with the bloody remains of dead cats and other animals...

There was none of that though, but the ornate, heavy wooden door was rather suspicious, mostly because of the eerie, sickly green glow it seemed to be emitting than whatever possible depravity that might lay behind it.

Tony hesitated, shifting from foot to foot anxiously, before curiosity won out and he carefully grabbed hold of the curved metal handle only to jerk away with a shocked cry as a violent ripple shot up his arm. Whiskey brown eyes stared down at the flawless skin of his palm, undamaged.

_Huh, that was interesting._ It hadn't really hurt, but the thrum of energy, or was it magic, that had swept through him had been unexpected and unsettling.

Shaking his head and steeling himself once more, the engineer grabbed the handle again, ignoring the second wave of energy...magic...whatever...that passed through him, and opened the door.

The tavern was just as dark as the entryway, but he could easily make out the handful of tables and chairs and the tall dark god currently hunched over the bar as he quietly read from an old leather bound journal. Loki appeared to have acclimated himself to Earth's more modern fashion; gone were his crazy Asgardian leathers, replaced instead with skintight, black denim jeans and a clingy, midnight blue sweater.

But what _really_ caught his attention was the proverbial shrine of alcohol.

Stark's eyes zeroed in immediately, taking in the floor to ceiling wall of backlit shelves filled to the brim with every type of alcohol imaginable and the beautiful crystal glasses hanging overhead, catching and reflecting the light like little magical prisms.

It had his mouth watering and before the engineer even realized it, he was sliding into place onto one of the barstools. But before he even had a chance to open his mouth and order a tumbler of fine single malt scotch, the god cut him off.

"We're closed," Loki said, not even bothering to look up from his book.

_Well damn._ "Is that any way to treat a valued customer?"

Loki turned a page and Tony mentally noted the neat handwritten notes and diagrams. "We're closed. Get out."

Tony sighed. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be our new magical consultant you're not very forthcoming."

"Care to elaborate, Stark?"

"It's Tony and for starters, what the fuck is up with that door?"

"I have placed a number of protective spells upon it for the benefit of my customers and myself."

"I thought I was being electrocuted."

"It is intended as a deterrent to those who would do me or my patrons harm. But even if you had truly harbored any ill will against me, it still would not have harmed you. Permanently anyway."

"What would happen?"

"Spoilers," the god said as he finally tore his eyes away from the journal, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.

Tony leaned back in his seat. "I'm impressed, Reindeer Games. You're wearing our clothes, you're quoting Dr. Who... Have you tried pizza yet? Tell me you've had pizza."

Loki snapped the journal shut with an audible snap and Tony watched with keen eyes as the god flicked his wrist and the book twisted in on itself, disappearing into thin air. The god placed his hands on the bar top, leveling the engineer with his piercing green eyes. "What do you want, Stark?"

"Tony," he corrected again, "and I want a drink. I'd also like to know why my bracelet didn't work."

"The bar is closed and as for the bracelet," the god held up a thin wrist, the simple, black braided cord still in place, "is it not still tracking my whereabouts?"

"Cut the crap, Loki. You know what I mean."

"Yes, I believe I do." Another flick of his wrist and a simmering ball of green seiðr was balanced on the tips of long fingers. "You humans are capable of many things. Marvelous things even, though few and far between, but you lack the capacity to comprehend magic. And those gifted few who _are_ capable of seeing your world for what it is are often times shunned and ridiculed."

"So, that's a no then?"

"The only one with the ability to stem my magic," Loki spat bitterly, "is the Allfather and he has little reason to do so. Though if you are so concerned perhaps you should start a petition."

Tony nodded his head gravely, then remembered. "Don't I still owe you a drink?"

"Get out of my bar, Stark."

"Hey, do you have a signature drink," the engineer asked, completely ignoring the god's demand. "Every good bar I've _ever_ been to, and let's face it I've been to more than a few, always has a signature drink."

Loki sighed irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Tony grinned triumphantly. _Gotcha._ "Come on, Rock of Ages. I'd get out of your hair a lot sooner if you'd saddle us both up with a drink."

"One drink," Loki bit out, raising a bony index finger, "and you _will_ leave."

Stark nodded his head eagerly in agreement, too curious and thirsty to be concerned with something as meaningless as self-preservation.

Loki turned to pull down one of the crystal martini glasses, setting it on the bar top in front of the engineer.

"You're not gonna make yourself one?"

"I doubt you could afford my tastes, Stark."

Tony spread his arms out wide, flashing the mischievous god with his usual cocky grin. "Billionaire," he said simply as though that explained it all.

Loki nodded as he continued to mix the engineer's drink, looking completely unfazed by the admission. "Then perhaps I'll keep you indebted for a while longer."

With that he slid the finished concoction across the bar top towards Stark.

"An appletini," he asked incredulously.

"A _golden_ appletini," Loki corrected, pressing a hip against the bar as he folded his arms over his lean chest.

Stark hummed skeptically, pulling the martini glass closer. The drink did have a golden amber color, not too unusual for alcohol, but the glittering twist of golden apple skin that was floating in it was. Still, the multibillionaire didn't even hesitate in gulping down a large mouthful. It was crisp and sweet, almost like biting into a ripe apple, but with the added burn of vodka.

"Not bad, Reindeer Games."

"You should consider yourself privileged," Loki commented, watching as Stark quickly drained his glass. "Few mortals have ever tasted the golden apples."

Tony blinked for moment. "_The_ golden apples?"

Loki nodded in confirmation.

The engineer's playboy grin made a brilliant appearance at that. "Does this mean I'm immortal now?"

"Hardly," the god scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "To become a god you must eat the entire apple, not just a bit of skin and juice. Though you may, no doubt, experience some health benefits."

Tony drummed his fingers on the bar top thoughtfully, watching as the god took the now empty glass away and began cleaning it. "Are these the same ones you stole from Asgard?"

Loki's green eyes flicked up to the engineer's before drifted back down to his work. "They are," he admitted.

Stark lent forward, folding his arms on top of the bar. "Since we're on the topic then, there's something I've been wondering about."

"Enlighten me," the god said in a bored tone, his hands never pausing as they ran a rag over the now clean crystal glass, drying it.

"In Greek mythology, the Trojan War was basically started when the goddess, Eris, threw a golden apple into someone's wedding party. Was that one of your apples?"

The corner of Loki's lips quirked up as he answered smugly. "It was."

"How did she get it?"

The subtle twitch of the god's thin lips grew into an outright devious smile that slowly spread across his pale face and sent a shiver down Stark's spine. "It makes since, does it not, that after my thievery it was in my best interest to make myself scarce from Asgard. As it was, I found myself wandering your realm." Loki paused, noticing Stark's raised eyebrow. "Or did you truly think that jaunt with the Chitauri was my first visit to your little planet?"

"So you were in cahoots with Eris then?

"No, Stark. I _was_ Eris."

"Crossdressing," Tony commented. "Nice. I bet you look _stunning_ in high heels."

"If you only knew," the god said coyly.

Stark shook his head, trying to rid it of the sudden barrage of images featuring Loki strutting around in a pair of designer pumps. "So you started a war because, why? You weren't invited to someone's wedding?"

"Not quite," Loki corrected. "I was in 'cahoots' with Aphrodite. _She_ wanted to cause a war." A soft chuckle escaped him then. "She was rather jealous of Helen's beauty."

"You didn't try to stop her." It was neither a question nor was it accusatory. It should have been, but it wasn't.

"No, why should I have? Paris, could just have easily picked Hera or Athena over Aphrodite."

"People died," Tony offered.

"People tend to die in every war, Stark. And what do you care," the god asked curiously. "It was so far before your time it's considered myth. Hardly of any consequence."

"Just curious," the engineer said with a careless shrug, his hand coming up to stroke over his bearded chin thoughtfully. "So the gods from the other mythologies are real then."

"As real as Thor and I."

"Where are they now?"

"Here, there...it doesn't really matter."

"You think so?"

"Calm your paranoia, Stark. Not all gods wish harm upon you mortals."

"Just you, you mean."

"Extenuating circumstances, I assure you," Loki said, his tone darkening.

"Well come on, Reindeer Games. Inquiring minds want to know."

There wasn't much warning aside from a low growl, and then Loki's hand was wrapped around Stark's throat. "You've had your drink, Stark, and I have even indulged in your inane curiosity. But now it is time for you to leave."

"You really need to work on your hospitality, Reindeer Games." Ok, maybe he shouldn't have said that out loud if the sudden flip-flop in the pit of his stomach was anything to go by.

The pale hand around his throat tightened before he was suddenly being shoved back off of his barstool. But just as Stark was about to hit the hardwood floor, the odd flutter in his stomach intensified and the world froze around him. And then, he disappeared...

...reappearing moments later outside the bar, landing hard in one of the dumpsters he had seen out in the alley.

His ears had popped at the sudden displacement, and it took the engineer longer than he cared to admit for him to realize that he was now sprawled out in a pile of garbage, too focused as he was on remembering how to breath.

Tony turned his head slightly, coming face to face with the same grey rat from early and the sound of his car alarm blaring loudly.

_Well, that went better than expected._

* * *

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, and I don't quite have a plot yet, but it at least this gives you an idea of what I have planned. Essentially any folklore or myth that corresponds with another. Examples: Dragons and Vampires...ya, that shits gonna happen. If any of you have an idea, let me know.


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